ROBBLOG #824- Time Waits For No Man

I was waiting at a stop light when I noticed the letters G and P stickered on the trunk of the car in front.

It took a minute before I realized- oh!- Gramma and Grandpa. It took another short minute to see the word printed beneath each letter.
Duh...
Family stuff. Cute though.

Those stickers got me thinking about friends and family.
Earlier in the day I was asked about a two "Ontario" friends we have lost contact with since living here on Vancouver Island. Retirement and distance was the reason we had sort of dropped out of touch. Not a surprize. There are more friends and some family members- like cousins, we have lost touch with over the past two and one half years.
It happens I guess.

We knew that would result from a cross-country move and it has.
I looked down at my dash and saw the time was almost  seven pm.
Another reason.
Time zones.
We live three times zones west of where we had lived the past 25 years.
It tales its toll.
Seven in the evening means there are people in Ontario I can't call right now because it's late and even more so our friends in Somerset U.K. who are snoozing away at this hour being eight hours ahead of us here in British Columbia.
So far, we haven't quite got used to it.
By the time I get my act together in the morning and have a couple of cups of much needed brew it's already approaching early afternoon in "olde home". I have to get cracking if I have calls to make- video or otherwise.

Talking of family, I just heard from my sister who has been wintering in the states along the Atlantic coast. Over the past few months there have been times when we are warmer here on the Island. I
can't remember if they saw snowflakes this season but that area can, of course. My Sister had texted to say my brother-in-law and her were heading home to Ontario a few days earlier than planned.
The reason?
Covid-19.

Things are getting stupid stateside and there is always the possibility of difficulty crossing the border or quarantine once one does. I certainly wouldn't want to be on that side of the 49th. The Mister and I have cancelled any thought of going to Hawaii for our 35th Anniversary next month. I am sure we could get there but again, coming back to a possible quarantine puts a damper on the whole thing.

Flight loads are lighter than usual. Even a trip to Australia was considered. The Mister- being a former airline employee, allows us the opportunity to fly standby- if there are seats of course.
Flights loads are "open" as we say in the airline biz. It would be easy as pie to fly to Frankfurt, Paris, London- even Sydney but because of the fear of catching this corona virus and some consideration, we are playing it safe and we have decided to stay in place.

As of this writing there are no covid-19 cases on the island. There are many on the BC Mainland but not here. I had suggested in a previous Blog to close Island airports and stop the Ferries. That won't happen unless things get totally gloomy but it would protect those of us living here.
Even the stodgy, old, right-wing Conservatives in Ontario are closing public schools for an additional two weeks after March Break. I am surprised that guy in charge of kid's education in that province- I forget his name, even thought that would be a good idea. He seems quite removed- like his boss Mr. Ford, to having student's best interests at heart.

So something else to think about  if you are an Easterner pondering hitching up the ox cart and plodding west- time difference. Of course there are high real estate prices and relatively low availability of homes to rent or buy but that depressing news should be saved for another day...

ROBBLOG #823- What next?

What Next?

Zombies roaming our streets?
Is there the chance that this corona virus will morph into our worst fears?
A true-to-life version of "The Walking Dead".
Okay, maybe that's not our worst fear.
Maybe our worst fear is Peter McKay becoming Prime Minister but it's up there in the top ten.

We've all seen the movies or TV shows- haven't we?
People have to hide in a high rise with a bobby-trapped front lobby.
Others build a metal fence around a suburban subdivision and live fairly normally slipping out to grocery shop in an abandoned No Frills.
Where the hell does their hydro come from and where do they get water and sewage treatment.
TV shows never elaborate.
I worry about these things.
There are even those who choose to cruise the landscape in an old Buick travelling the countryside in a warped version of a summer vacation. At least entry to Canada's Wonderland would be free.

I think if there were to be a Zombie infestation, I'f like to live through it on a tropical, South Pacific Island- like Oahu.
How bad can living with Zombies be there?
Surf. Sunbath. Shoot a Zombie in the head. Wack a Zombie with a baseball bat keeping in mind that these Zombies were once real people.
There would have to be some remorse.
Anyway, all in a day's fun and survival on Waikiki.
Don't forget your sunblock and flip flops.

Actually, I feel I am becoming quite complacent with this virus.
I am tired of seeing it in headlines every day.
Cripes, Italy is corralling millions of people and offering jail terms and heavy fines if Italians try to leave the containment zone.
Now, that's a horror movie right there.
Citizens crawling across fields and under barbed-wire fences to reach their loved ones in another part of the country. Maybe they'e out of pizza dough and it's a flight of mercy.
Meatballs may be sparse or pantries may be holding the final couple of bags of Catelli spiral macaroni.
Egads!
All the while those in command- hairy, old Italian men, are holding all the cards and possibly all the meatballs.

So far I have yet to hear of one case of Number 19 here on Vancouver Island. If Italy is shuttering citizens from freedom of travel maybe it's time we close the island off from the rest of the country and the world.
Just stop the ferries and close the airports.
Done.
Simple.
Oh, there are a couple of people I'd like to ship off our paradise on the last boat.
(Please refer to the previous RobBlog for further information)
Other than that, I think we'd be okay.
We'd wait out the virus.
Wait for the all-clear, when life would return to normal and one again politicians in this country can waste their time calling one another names and natives can return to their normal state of shutting a country down with blockades while at the same time seeking sympathy and retribution.

You know, maybe we're Fucked already...

ROBBLOG #822- Nuts to You

I don’t know what’s up these days.

With me?

Possibly.

Is it the Coronavirus, the Covid -19 disease?

Nope.

Am I worried about Covid-20 or 21.

No.

For now, I'm still breathing, not coughing, nor am I lining up at Costco at an ungodly hour to buy toilet paper. TP will not save you from Zombies and if this virus is any example of the tons of Zombie movies we've had shoved in our faces over the years, Toilet Paper is NOT going to save us.

I would be upset of course if I had a trip planned to Italy with Corona virus on the loose.

Holy Cow!

I'll bet the Pope is praying to his non-existent Gawd overtime these days.

So far he's in the clear. I'll bet they have him sealed in a plastic garbage bag for safety!

The Italians surrounding the Vatican are shutting down half their country to save Italians and maybe that might be a good idea. 

The Pope's prayers don't seem to be having any effect on ridding us of the infection.

Is this just the latest in bad jokes from the almighty?

I can imagine the sermons in born-again churches these days.

Wait?

Is that the hooves of the four horsemen I hear or Peter McKay's lips flapping in the Canadian breeze speaking his truth- namely right-wing rhetoric.

To be frank, we have to corral this doomsday disease before all we cough and wheeze our way into the next dimension.

There's just not enough room in Heaven if we all were to shuffle from this mortal state together. Cripes, the house prices in Heaven- and Hell (that's probably Vancouver) would skyrocket!

To be truthful, these days- viruses aside, I'm feeling a little anxious.

I'm not wishing for spring like I once did back in Ontario at this March time of year. Here on the Island it never gets cold or wintry enough to make one throw themselves to their knees at bedtime praying for an end to the season called winter. That's because here on Vancouver Island crocuses have already bloomed and daffodils are still blooming. Even the cherry blossoms are out on many trees.

What more can one ask for?

Anxiousness is stress or stress is being anxious.

Oh well, I am sure it will pass.

In the meantime, I go smell a daffodil.

I thought we had found one...

ROBBLOG #821-Pound. Thump. Pound.

There are things I'd like to say right here in this RobBlog- but I won't

This RobBlog I write is not an editorial or essay or rant, this BLOG is simply some personal thoughts- laid down, in the same manner as I might vocally relay them to someone sitting opposite me in a coffee shop.
As I get older I do have to reel in my vocal distaste for much of the crap happening in our
neighbourhood, country, world and planet.
Planet. Smanet! Dammit Janet!
There are boundaries, however.
Like...

I probably shouldn't mention the Indian chap- First Nations not Punjabi, who stood centre of the street talking on a mobile phone, while I was making a right-hand turn on a very small ramp.
Oh, he saw me.
He saw me.
I saw it as a small blockade without the rail tracks, flags, covered faces and tires smoldering away.
Maybe those larger blockades give the unemployed, the street beggars and those with absolutely nothing to do or nothing on their minds an opportunity to...um...well, to do something.
Is there free food and drinks or is the opportunity to wear a mask in public outside of October 31st just too much of a good thing to pass?

Someone suggested to me that the government pay them all off and be done with it.
Blockades are not the best way to have people support you when those very folks you look to for support are being laid off or denied goods because of the blockade.
It's a circle. A vicious gawd damn circle!

I don't know what Justin- Our Prime Minister, is about these days either.
I mean, I like the beard.
It's cute. Handsome even.
Is he gonna shave it off if the barricades all come down or if winter finally ends?
He sure seemed to take his time on this barricade deal much to the opposition's delight!
Of course with a minority government one can't do anything right- except maybe ignore Andrew Scheer.
Did someone forget to tell Scheer he's just a fill-in now.
He's not a real leader, so shut up?

Actually Peter McKay should heed those words.
I kinda liked him at one point.
Notice the word "kinda" and "liked".
I thought he was different but he isn't.
I mean for me saying I kinda like a Conservative is saying a lot but his words these past couple of weeks are cautionary.
He just jumped in the same mud puddle as the rest of those Tory leaders who have the audacity to use the words "my Canada". They mean the Canada that we all would still be stuck in back in the darker ages- if it weren't for other leaders. Cripes, I kept the lights off the entire decade that Harper was in power. I hid in the cellar. I wore white-face when I went out in public.
White face?
The same colour Kiss and the Joker wear.
It's not racist!
I would have gladly moved to England or New Zealand or France or some other country where I didn't speak the language and would have no fucking idea what was happening.
Now, that's bliss!

It's the "End of Days" I tell you.
Now, I'm sure you're used to that coming from a right-wing, evangelical God-Fearing preacher but look at the signs?
Corona-virus.
Blockades.
Pier 1 closing. The final two Zellers Stores.
Will and Grace almost finished their comeback.
Peter Mansbridge still missing from The National. ( Who are those strange new people?)
Woman doing things men used to do.
Men doing things women always did.
Mr. Cheese Face.
Mr. Ford. Mr. Scheer and anyone else of that ilk. There are too many here in Canada to mention.
Quite frankly, I am waiting for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to come thundering down my street any day now.
The Hound of Hell lives!!
Actually, she does.
I have her address!

I feel I should be on a pulpit in front of a congregation, pounding my fists in direct relation to the words I speak.

You'll have to imagine you heard the thump-thump-thump.

ROBBLOG #820- Pooh Pooh Undies

People are funny, eh?

Like today.
I gave the cashier lady at Winners my Pet Value card instead of my TJ Max Card.
She took it from me readily.
I saw her give the card a look and then attempt a useless swipe.
 She looked at me and said- "I think this is the wrong card."
I looked.
"Of course it is!"- I laughed. "Just put me in the home!"

While this was going on the Mister was looking at bags of Lindor Chocolate next to the cash register.
He picks up a bag and says to the already flustered gal-
"You need to dust. There's dog hair and dust all over the bottom of this bag."
She apologized for the dust and hair.
I knew what she was thinking- "Dog Hair Sir? Really?"
I smiled weakly and said- "Don't ya love it when someone comments on your housekeeping? I get it all the time at home."
She half-smiled this time looking at her watch wondering if it was time to leave this place of customer service behind and those customers that commented on dust and hair.

Funny, eh?

Prior to visiting Winners- one of my favourite stores and believe me there's not many to choose from in North Cowichan, we had gone into Pet Smart. I was looking for D-Stress, the liquid wonder-drug that we've been giving to our feline "Dickens" over the past year to calm him down.
It works.
It's all natural and it's 17 bucks for a small eye-dropper bottle.

No, it doesn't go in his eyes, it's goes on top of his food.

Anyhoo, the gal at the Pet Smart register tried to get me to register for their customer "card" even though she says there's no card. Just a phone number.
"No thanks",  I told her. "I have enough cards."
"But it's not a card. It's a phone number"- she wanted to make sure I understood that fact. "Well,"- she continued. "If you buy here all the time it does offer you cash-back savings.
"Nope. Not interested but kudos for you for trying." I smiled.
"I don't get anything for getting you to sign up you know."
She was getting defensive.
"I have to ask and anyway you might win cash rewards and it's just a phone number after all."
This gal wasn't giving up.
"Well, I commend you for your efforts but no thanks. You are very good at your job however..."
I thought I'd say something positive. You know, end on an upswing. She placed the receipt into the bag I had brought, along with the D-Stress and a chew bone the Mister picked up for Koko.
Now, if they gave me 5 cents back every time I brought in my own bag, I'd sign up for that!

White Pooh, Pooh Undies

We headed for the van after a quick go round at JYSK.
I needed a shoe rack for my closet.
I got one on sale for 22 bucks.
Nice. The next rainy day, I plan to organize the closet and make room for all my shoes.
Just call me "Amelda".
The Mister picked up a rug for the floor area in front of the kitchen sink.
I suggested turquoise blue.
He wanted a "blah" grey.
The rugs were made of memory foam.
Very posh and soft.
I still suggested the turquoise. The colour would pop along with the "Aloha" sign we bought from a craft vendor in Waikiki a couple of years ago. The sign was above the cupboards near the sink.
In the end the grey stayed on the pile and the turquoise came home.
It looks fab.

Then, he asked a floor girl where the wooden hangers were. She showed him and he picked up two packs.
Finally we are at the cash and the gal says- "There's no return on the hangers."
Something about hangers being a personal item.

JYSK are very concerned about personal items. I thought a worse scenario might be stepping on the turquoise rug in bare feet or having the cat puke on it and then returning it, rather than a hanger that's just had a shirt on it.This was just something I had rummaging around in my heard while the Mister paid for our purchases.
I mean it's not like we would attempt to return the hangers after we had hung our dirty "pooh, pooh undies" on them.
Really.
As I said- it a JYSK thing.

As we headed home I needed to stop at 49th Parallel for milk. The "49th"- as we locals call it, is a grocery store.
I nipped in, got a three litre carton of milk and a pack of three, freshly-baked Apple Fritters.
At the cash there was a Mom and daughter in front of me. I took notice because the Mom's hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks.
Yuck. Gag.
She had a couple of cokes on the counter and a small black box of something.
The cashier asked is she wanted a bag.
"No, but I need cigarettes- but I don't know what kind."

It figures they never know what kind!!
WTF?

Are you a real smoker or are you a "pansy" smoker. Be a woman and step up and tell the lady what you smoke.
Jesus Harold Christ!
This has happened to me many times at the 49th and always when there are lots of folks lined up at the cash. The clerk pulled open the drawer where the cancer-sticks were hidden. Mommy leaned over and chose something.

Good.
We are almost done, then it's my turn.
Now, all of a sudden the Madam decides she does want a bag. She grabbed the black box and shoved it into the bag with the cancer-sticks like she was all of a sudden hiding her purchase from the world. During all this, I had kept myself amused by reading the labels on the Planter's Peanut cans in front of me.
Salted. Non-Salted. Chocolate-covered.
Still, I was aware of what was going on.
I can do two things at once after all!

My eyes drifted from the peanut cans to the monitor screen in front of me. There, in letters three inches high, it said:
KOTEX Tampons and a price.
I don't remember the price.
I don't need to remember the price for obvious reasons. If it had of been Depends for Men, I might have been interested.
You know, just for my personal information down the road.
Way down- I hope!

Anyway, that's the mystery of the small, black box solved.
"Mummy greasy hair" was trying to protect her offspring from being embarrassed- I suppose, meanwhile it was there for all to see in big, black, block letters.

I smiled.
I thought it amusing.
Perhaps she should have bought a bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo and left the ciggies in the cashier's drawer.

People are funny, eh?

ROBBLOG #819- What?

Did I miss something?

I don't watch the Oscars like I once did. I skipped last year and caught the year before.
However the Mister and I did sit down yesterday afternoon to watch.
I say afternoon because here on the Left Coast the pre-Oscar show starts at 330 in the afternoon and the show itself at 5. The whole thing is done out here shortly after 8 pm.
It seems strange not having to stay up late with work the next day.
In fact we watched "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" and still finished before midnight.
Oh, Quentin Tarantino did not disappoint. The blood and gore flowed before the curtain fell.

This year we managed to watch a few of the nominees.
Judy, 1917, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and others
But....
Did I miss something?

I heard about Parasite.
We tried watching it a few days ago.
It was in Korean.
After the awards yesterday, we tried again.
Nope.
Still Korean and
still we had no idea what they were saying.
I tried turning up the volume on the TV but we still couldn't understand.
That's an old airline trick.
If someone doesn't speak English and are asking you a question just raise your voice and
magically English gets translated to the confused traveller.

Okay.
This doesn't work. It's just something that we've seen folks do in a foreign country. Speak much louder and all language barriers melt away.
They do not- as I said.

So Parasite.
What happened there?
Why does America have the Oscar statuette shoved up the Korean butt?
I only heard about the film a week or so ago. Apparently it is part comedy. Part drama. Part horror.
I can't for the life of me understand why the white men of the Academy voted for this one. Was there an all-expenses paid trip to South Korea up for grabs?
I think four statuettes in total.
Why?
Maybe if I ever see the film, I'll get it. Usually, American is only for all things American and this includes English- well, American English.
Zee? Not Zed?
What?

I should think this might have been the year a Mexican film could have won- if one had of been nominated. If memory serves, I seem to remember a movie about cavemen and cavewomen winning Best Picture decades ago and not one word of English- American or otherwise, was spoken.
Just grunts.

A strange group these Old Oscar boys. I say "old boys" because I believe more than 60% are men and something like 87% of those are White Boys. Old White Boys.

Noticed how the Oscars made up for lack of "Black Actors" being nominated by having black folks as presenters, singers and dancers. I know what they were trying to do but really?

So, just why did those old, white boys vote Korean?
Did their wives ask then to?
Was it political? Well, yes I guess it was. Anti-Presidential? Who knows.
Perhaps but I am not that enshrined in American politics to get it.
I do know not one Canadian- man or woman to be fair, won an Oscar Statuette. Of course all the Canadian "films" were documentary shorts.
Weren't they?

No, the Oscars tried to be all things to all people but failed.
They did have a Queer representation with Elton and a couple of quick camera shots of his Canadian other half David Furnish to appease us Canuks.

I don't know for sure but I suspect that if a show of hands were asked for at the ceremony as to who saw "Parasite", the outcome would probably suggest that about ten percent or less of the audience actually saw the film.
Unfortunately, a percentage of the ten percent were in the bathroom- having a pee!

ROBBLOG #818- Smell ya Later

I have a lot of things that keep me busy during retirement.

Take for instance yesterday morning.
I spent a delightful two hours trying to find the source of  a smell coming from our Whirlpool refrigerator.

On the best of days I am not happy with the Whirlpool Appliances that are in our new kitchen. The bright star in the lineup of fridge, wall oven, microwave and cook top is the dishwasher.
It performs well.
It's quiet and does a good job. When not in use it sits there and doesn't bother anyone.
I am not going into great detail at this juncture concerning the appliances and why I haven't especially warmed to them. No, today's focus is telling you about the smell emanating from the refrigerator whenever the door is opened.
This is no fault of Whirlpool but still, I would never, ever purchase a Whirlpool appliance again.
(Let it go Rob...let it go)

Meanwhile, back at the fridge...
At first I thought some milk had spilled. I took out the carton of Island Farms 3% milk and wiped it down with a blue J Cloth. I wiped the glass shelf clean where the carton sat and I felt pretty confident I had found the cause of the odour.
It was like sour milk.

I closed the door.
A few minutes later I opened the fridge to pour a bit of milk in my coffee cup.
Ugh!
The smell was still there.
I poured the milk in the cup and added some hot coffee all the while holding my breath.

"Damn, it must be the milk carton"- I thought.
I was fairly certain.
I poured the remaining milk from the carton into a glass milk bottle I had in the cupboard. You see a few months back I had tried a particular brand of local milk that is sold on the Island in glass jars. I didn't like the milk but I thought the glass milk bottle was worth holding on to. If I poured the carton's contents into the glass bottle maybe my odour problem would vanish.

I was wrong.
A few minutes later the odour was there when I opened the door.
"Oh for Pete's Sake!"
Sorry about the rough language.

I washed down the glass shelves and the side walls of the refrigerator with Bon Ami cleanser.
Nope.
I could still smell it.
I tried a lemon cleanser.
A few minutes later the odour remained.

I emptied the fridge piling everything on the centre island.
I wiped off jars and containers.
I took out shelves and wiped until I thought the glass would break.
I even swore softly beneath my breath.
"Darn. Cripes. Holy smoke."
It was a good thing a young child was not in the immediate vicinity!

I smelled everything.
Time passed...
I became tired of sniffing and smelling.
Gawd, how does a hound dog do it?

I was about to give up and order a new fridge when I picked up a tuna can that had a purple, plastic lid snapped tightly closed on the tin's top- at least I thought it was snapped tight.
I inspected the tin.
Ah-Hah!!
The lid wasn't clicked closed on one side.
Could this can be the culprit?
I had picked the can up early on but I was sure the top was snapped on  tight. I didn't give it a sniff at the time. I should have because it wasn't on tight. As I drew the tin to my nose I could smell the fish inside.
Yeech!

I hate fish and things from the ocean on the best of days. Sure, I'll eat some deep-fried halibut with a side of fries, however, that's as far as I'll go. I only have the tuna to appease the cat.
So, there it was. A small can and a big smell.
Ewwww.

I threw the can out.
I thought I'd try Dickens- our orange tabby, on flaked chicken. I remember I had bought some the last time I topped up his tuna-in-water inventory. I thought chicken in a can would smell better- to me at least.
Dickens however, turned his feline nose up at the chicken.
Finicky ******* felines.

So that's how one spends one's retirement.
I still have a finicky feline but I also have the cleanest, freshest smelling refrigerator on the entire block!